


The Quiet Moments Where We Breathe in Sync

by Ellesra



Series: KHR rare pair week 2020 [5]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Also has Art, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Relationship, Roleswap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellesra/pseuds/Ellesra
Summary: Hayato sometimes wondered between soft touches and manic smiles, just what he was to Byakuran. His official role was that of a right-hand man, the storm to his sky, the order in the chaos. Or was it the chaos in the order? It was hard to put into word just what they were, because sometimes Hayato worked himself to the bone to keep the Millefiore in one piece and the alliances balanced and the powerhouses both in their place and still thinking they should reach for more. The Millefiore loved ambition, after all.At other times they just sat in silence, and Hayato felt the tension beneath his fingers slowly ease as he moved them in circles or squares or pressed deep, digging into muscles that were more sore than Byakuran would ever let himself admit.
Relationships: Byakuran & Gokudera Hayato, Byakuran/Gokudera Hayato
Series: KHR rare pair week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1800307
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: KHR Rare Pair Week 2020





	The Quiet Moments Where We Breathe in Sync

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/KHR_Rare_Pair_Week_2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
>  June 25: Rain Day - Roleswap AU & Platonic Cuddling

The first time Hayato met _him,_ he was twelve years old and working a job he was barely getting paid for, for some mafia family offshoot he hadn't even bothered memorizing the name of.

Rain had been pelting him most of the evening, and his hair was sticking to his forehead in a way that was more bothersome than he'd like to admit. All the other hired grunts were double his size, and easily carted the goods that they were bringing from point A to point B. Hayato's shoulders were aching, his back screaming for rest, and he still made sure to carry almost as much as the rest were doing. Caravino, the only guy Hayato had deigned to remember the name of, clapped him on the back and told him to take it easy.

The man had seemed to harbor a soft spot for Hayato ever since he started working with them. Caravino was always grumbling about him being too young, too inexperienced, too easy to kill. And yet he fed him scraps at lunchtime whenever Hayato hadn't brought his own food, and usually praised Hayato for his work at the end of the day.

Even the goons were unhappy with the weather, and as they carried the last crate inside, most of them were eagerly jumping into the car to get out of the rain.

Hayato was already wet to the bone. He was also stubborn to a fault, and ended up walking alongside the man carrying the last crate instead of seeking shelter.

Inside the warehouse the goods had been placed off to the side. Hayato frowned as he saw a person standing among them. There hadn't been anyone around on the last trip he'd taken.

"Who're you?" the grunt whose name Hayato hadn't learned asked, setting the crate he was carrying onto the concrete floor with a loud thump.

The person had hair that demanded attention even more than Hayato's grey; white hair that fell into their face and stood like a mane around their head. Even more strange was that the person couldn't be that much older than he was.

"Ah, that's not for you to worry about. I'm here to talk to him," the person said, an easy smile on their face that didn't seem the least bit honest. Hayato hovered warily beside the big goon; if this person wanted him for some sort of slight he'd done them, then Hayato was infinitely safer beside his fellow worker. Not that he was entirely sure the guy would protect him. Though perhaps, with a person this small the grunt wouldn't feel threatened enough to simply hand him over.

"Oh yeah? Well I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be here. So unless you tell me who you are, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to wring your neck," the big guy threatened, smiling in return in a way that was much less pleasant to look at.

The new person just scoffed.

Then he drew a gun.

"I thought I told you that you weren't needed," the youth uttered, and pulled the trigger.

Hayato jumped away as the gunshot echoed through the warehouse, and just managed to avoid being buried in a hundred kilograms of dead grunt.

"People are very bad at taking a hint," the shooter said, smile back on their face. Hayato blinked at them, uncomprehending.

While shooting people was not uncommon in the mafia, it was usually foreseen. This was... Unexpected.

Hayato's heart was hammering in his chest, so loud that he felt it pounding between his ears. The switchblade in his pocket felt awfully inadequate faced with this.

"What do you want?" he demanded. His brain was practically screaming at him to run, and yet he doubted he would get far.

The person walked towards him. While looking to be his age, the shooter was actually almost a head taller than him, legs long and spindly. They reached out a hand, and Hayato could see their fingers were of a similar quality.

"I'm Byakuran," they said as Hayato finally grasped the offered hand. "I have a job offer for you."

///

Five years later and Hayato had often wondered whether he would have been better off running. The brutality Byakuran had shown in their first encounter was something he pulled out whenever it struck his fancy. While Hayato had gotten used to seeing people's brains blown out for less, it never failed to unsettle him.

Though what unsettled him more, perhaps, was when Byakuran didn't go for his gun.

"What's so special about him?" Hayato asked after the door had slammed shut, Byakuran's latest point of interest having run through it seconds before.

"I need him for my plans," the man uttered, though he sounded decidedly unhappy about it. The smile he'd held through the entire meeting had fallen off his face the moment the door closed. Hayato thought it was for the best. Byakuran tended to be in a foul mood after carrying that smile for an entire day.

Hayato didn't remark upon this _plan_ of Byakuran's. To him the whole thing sounded like madness. Yet Byakuran had proven time and time again that his knowledge held true. That didn’t mean he agreed with what they were using that knowledge for.

The head of the Millefiore family directed his gaze to Hayato. 

"Come here," he ordered. Hayato followed the order without question, sitting down on the couch beside Byakuran.

The man huffed a breath and laid down on his side. His head came to rest in Hayato's lap.

Idly he started threading his fingers through those soft white locks.

Hayato sometimes wondered between soft touches and manic smiles, just what he was to Byakuran. His official role was that of a right-hand man, the storm to his sky, the order in the chaos. Or was it the chaos in the order? It was hard to put into word just what they were, because sometimes Hayato worked himself to the bone to keep the Millefiore in one piece and the alliances balanced and the powerhouses both in their place and still thinking they should reach for more. The Millefiore loved ambition, after all.

At other times they just sat in silence, and Hayato felt the tension beneath his fingers slowly ease as he moved them in circles or squares or pressed deep, digging into muscles that were more sore than Byakuran would ever let himself admit. 

Hayato never told Byakuran to slow down. He wasn't sure he knew how to, without the words coming out wrong and his true reservations about their cause coming to the forefront. Because Hayato didn't want to own the world. He didn't want endless power, or dominion across alternative dimensions.

His fingertips brushed across scalp and he thought that this, this was enough. He could run himself to the bone just to get to these small moments where everything was quiet except for how they breathed in sync.

///

///

There was blood running into his eyes, black spikes piercing his body in several places. The pain was excruciating. Hayato could quickly feel his strength fading, his flames no longer answering the call of his will. He stared into uncaring black eyes and wondered if Byakuran really was the worst of them. There was another person moving into view, and his eyes also carried that same callous quality.

Hayato knew he wasn't really anyone to these people. The Vongola were here to take down Byakuran; if he came in the way of that, well, it didn't surprise him that they would strike him down without mercy. That is what the Vongola is most well known for, and he hadn’t fooled himself into thinking he would be different.

And yet Hayato hadn't really felt true fear until he stared into that glowing orange gaze. It was impossible, of course, because Sawada Tsunayoshi was dead. Yet here he was, staring through Hayato as though he was an open book. An open book that was on fire, his pages quickly becoming unreadable as the pain threatened to blacken his vision.

"Stop," came the command, and for a moment Hayato wondered whether he was being ordered not to die. It somehow felt like it worked; the black edges to his sight went away, and he saw Sawada in full clarity.

The man— no, the _boy_ , Sawada Tsunayoshi could be no older than sixteen _at most —_ stepped towards Hayato. The blankness of his gaze seemed to clear, and was overtaken by regret.

"Hibari, you're killing him!"

He and Hibari scoffed at the same time, the ridiculousness of that statement clear to them both.

Hayato peered down at Sawada, his gaze flickering briefly to Hibari, and felt a nasty smile crawl onto his face. There was nothing funny about the situation, and yet he felt the manic laughter quivering in his chest. The pain of it forced a hiss from his mouth, his lips pulled into a grimace.

"Killing me is both the smartest and dumbest thing you could have ever done," he told them, his mind returning to Byakuran. It was almost like he could feel the man's head resting against his own, almost like his fingers were threaded through that soft hair. Except his fingers were going numb, and Hayato could no longer feel anything below his hips.

Suddenly, strangely, he was feeling pity for the enemies in front of him. Byakuran didn't deal well with losing what he considered to be his own.

"You should run," he croaked, the malice gone as fast as it had come.

Hayato could no longer feel his heart pounding in his ears. There was an eerie silence.

"He will—" Choking on his breath, blood rattling in his windpipe, a sudden desperation clouding his mind with panic as he realized _he was actually going to **die.**_

— _take your word apart and burn every single piece until there's nothing left but the ashes of your loved ones and he'll make sure there is no universe where you can be without suffering._

_You should_ "run—".

Hayato didn't know whether they followed his advice. The darkness was embracing him, and he leaned into it. Perhaps he was ready after all.


End file.
